


House of the Broken

by j_gabrielle



Series: House of the Broken [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, I seriously have no idea what to tag, It's a bit more angst than that, M/M, Matchmaking!Newt, Post Series, i lie, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 16:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8630650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: He gets a place in a home. The kind where his fellow occupants are those who stare bankly at butterflies outside the window. "It's just till you get better." Tina had said with a soft smile. But when will that be? The President herself signs off on his care. "For your services." She said. If he could scream, he would.Russian Translation available: https://ficbook.net/readfic/5002702 (thank you Matthew_F_Jones for taking the time out to do this) xx





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, Ezra. ficwriter103 & I love you. Please come to Malaysia.

They find him at the bottom of a trunk. Not unlike the infinite space in Newt Scamander's suitcase. They say he is malnourished, broken but thankfully unharmed. They say a million other things, but Graves merely tunes it out like the buzzing of bees till their voices swirl and sit in the back of his mind untended to. In those first days they were a seamless and unending stream of faces and questions; what happened, can you remember anything, anything at all that could help us, can you, do you... Graves says nothing. Not because he doesn't want to, or can't. But because he will not.

He gets a place in a home. The kind where his fellow occupants are those who stare bankly at butterflies outside the window. "It's just till you get better." Tina had said with a soft smile. But when will that be? The President herself signs off on his care. "For your services." She said. If he could scream, he would.

Scamander stops by whenever he is in the city. That infernal suitcase stays by the door once he figures out that it makes Graves uncomfortable to have it near him. Logically he knows that what happened to him is unrelated to the care and the purpose that suitcase represents. But. It makes his skin crawl nonetheless. And thus Scamander sits with him like they are old friends, chattering about the latest acquisition he has managed to procure for his menagerie. Graves feels the odd twitch whenever their conversations sway towards whatever illegality he has with him. But Scamander seems to take the minute shift in his expressions as a challenge. Like it's some sort of game. He is the only one who doesn't shy away from speaking about what Grindelwald did using his face. For that he is privately grateful.

"I saw him." He says when he visits at the cusp of winter. "Credence. I saw him."

Graves blinks, tilting his head to him. It is raining outside and it will do him no favours to be sitting by the window like this. But his room has the view of the front gates. And he is waiting.

Scamander dips his hand into his breast pocket, pulling out a pendant tied to the end of a broken leather strip. Graves barely conceals the flinch. "You, or should I say Grindelwald disguised as you, gave him this. I told him about you. About where you were. Though I think he could surmise as much from what he could gather by himself. Very resourceful, he is. Though in all fairness, you're not a hard man to find these days."

Graves breathes in deep when the pendant is pressed to the palm of his hand. "It is charmed. Like a beacon. Calls out to only two recipients." Graves stares at it for a moment before looking up into Scamander's eyes. "And it still works." He says with a quiet smile.

That night, lying in his bed, he runs his thumb over the surface; line, circle, triangle. Wand, stone, cloak. And wills everything in him into the repetitive stokes of his finger that Scamander is right.

He only has to wait for the first snow fall. It is past dinner and the ordelies have left him alone by the window for his usual hour before bed. Graves wears the pendant around his neck, eyes fixed on the silent and untouched landscape of the grounds. He is still waiting. Will continue to. The window is cold against his cheek, the sound of the wind whistling through the cracks are loud when coupled with the crackle and pop of the fireplace.

"You called for me."

Jerking, Graves turns. His heart beats hard and fast against his ribs. "Mr Scamander told me about you. About what happened." He feels his breath stutter in his chest when he sees the figure that steps out of the shadows, the name dying in his chest before his tongue could wrap around it. Credence looks... Good. The sallow, haunted look that used to hang on him like chains is but a memory now. He stands taller, a certain quiet steel in his eyes as he comes closer. His hair is longer, curling at his shoulder. Credence has changed. No longer a boy, but a man who has come into his own with grace. Graves must have made a sound, because Credence goes to his knee, bending so that they are at eye level. Grasping for his hand, Graves pulls him close, the sob that pushed out from within his is both painful and a release at once.

"Forgive me." He says, the words like knives formed in a voice disused.

Brown eyes goes impossibly wide. As if he had not expected this. "Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me." Graves says, choking on every syllable. Letting himself fall into Credence's arms, he breathes in the scent of forests and baked goods on his skin. "Credence."

The touch of cold fingers at the base of his nape is soft and the warmth that grows from that is sweet. "Was it real. Before." Credence asks, pulling away to cup at his stubbled cheek. 

"It always was." Graves says. There is much he wants to add. He wants to say 'I'm sorry I didn't protect you', 'I'm sorry that you had to go through this', 'I'm sorry for everything, for what that monster did with my face'. As his hands slip into Credence's he wants to beg for forgiveness, for absolution. Eventually what comes out is, "Everything. It was real. Still is."

All that happens is this; Credence smiling and it is a beautiful thing. He runs his hand through Graves' hair, slow and lingering. "Come with me. Let me take you away from here."

"And then?" Graves asks, looking into his eyes. "What happens next?"

Credence tilts his head, shrugging. "Let's do something about your hair."

"And then?" Graves leans in, words soft.

Credence, with his brown eyes alight in the flames of the fireplace, mirrors him. "And then."

Their lips meet in the barest of presses, drawing away only to return in renewed vigour. Insistent and purposeful. Seeking. Graves sighs into their kiss, pushing himself against Credence. 

* * *

 

Tina narrows her eyes at Newt who is standing against the window, watching the sunlight reflecting off the snow. The Aurors have just finished their rundown of the room and are congregating outside for the President's arrival. "Something tells me you know something about this." She says coming to stand next to him.

Newt smiles. Tina catches the tailend of a necklace disappearing into his coat pocket. "I'm sure Mr Graves is fine. Wherever he is."

Tina huffs a laugh. Relaxing her shoulders, she joins him in looking out over the morning view. "I'm sure he will be."

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any prompts you would like to see written, send them [here](http://www.randomingoftherandomness.tumblr.com/ask)


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